


Gallavich Tumblr Prompts

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Shameless Prompt Fics [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 16,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of fics I've written in response to prompts I've received on my blog. Anything longer than a couple pages is its own independent fic. (Newest fic - Mickey sitting in Ian's lap and Ian picking Mickey up)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kev being awesome about Ian and Mickey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a prompt sent to me by an anon. [i'm open for prompts if you wanna hit me up!](http://likingwhatilikedontmakemeabitch.tumblr.com/)

                The first time Ian and Mickey are in the Alibi together is two weeks after Mickey came out. Mickey had been around for work and Ian had been in a couple times with Lip or Mandy, but they’d somehow managed to miss each other. This time, though, they walked in together.

 

                Mickey told Ian to take a seat at the bar while he went upstairs to check on the girls and when he finished his business they didn’t leave right away. Mickey took the seat next to Ian and ordered a drink to match his. Kev poured his beer and placed it down in front of him with a subtle little nod. He looked at Ian and then back at Mickey and winked, bustling down the bar to collect the dirty glasses and wipe down the counter.

 

                It didn’t matter what shit went down between Mickey and Kev before because now Kev was giving him permission and that was something Mickey needed. He slid almost all the way off his chair until his toes touched the floor and scooted his stool closer to Ian’s just because he could.


	2. Ian and Mickey sharing an ice cream cone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted this from me! if you want to submit a prompt [hit me up](http://likingwhatilikedontmakemeabitch.tumblr.com/)!

“Ay, keep your tongue to yourself, Firecrotch,” Mickey grumbled, holding his ice cream cone away from Ian as best he could. Unfortunately Ian was taller and lankier than Mickey and so he enveloped Mickey and took the ice cream off him without much trouble. Mickey huffed as he pushed Ian off him and watched the redhead lap at his ice cream. “Why the fuck didn’t you buy your own if you wanted some?”

“I just wanted a taste,” Ian replied, giving it one last overly-sensual lick (Mickey watched that clever tongue and had to look away, flustered) and then handed it back to Mickey. “Food always tastes better when you steal it from someone else anyways.”

“Fuckin’ dick,” Mickey muttered, swiping a drip of melting ice cream off the cone with his tongue.

“Yeah, I’d like a taste of that too,” Ian said with a cheeky smirk and Mickey sputtered a little, staring at Ian over the top of his ice cream. He cocked a ginger eyebrow, decidedly interested.

“You can, uh,” he coughed. “have a taste of that whenever you want.”

“Nah,” Ian shook his head, placing his hand over Mickey’s and pulling the ice cream cone away from his face. He bit his lip and stared at Mickey’s mouth. “I’ll get that later. I want a taste of something else right now.”

Mickey was a little sad when he dropped his ice cream cone in favour of grabbing at Ian’s hips, but having his boyfriend suck the sugary taste off his tongue made him feel a lot better.


	3. Mickey calming Ian down after a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is for martianto. if you wanna shoot me a prompt, my blog is [here](http://likingwhatilikedontmakemeabitch.tumblr.com/)

Mickey woke up with a bony elbow jabbing hard into his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. He rolled away from the offending body and turned over to snarl at Ian for waking him up. He only got half a syllable out before the irritation drained from him, replaced by worry instead. Ian twisted and turned, sobbing softly in his sleep.

 

Frowning, Mickey sat up on one elbow and used the other hand to grip Ian’s shoulder, shaking him awake. He whined and protested and tried to pull away but Mickey was firm, shaking him until his breathing evened out and his eyes blinked open.

 

He scrunched them shut again as soon as he registered Mickey there and realized what had happened, squirming in closer to him and diving into the safety of his embrace. He cried harder, face buried in Mickey’s chest. Mickey’s arms wrapped around him nearly impulsively and he rubbed Ian’s shoulders and back. He didn’t speak; Ian didn’t need to hear that it was okay, that today was a bad day but tomorrow would be better. He’d heard it from enough shrinks so he didn’t need to hear it from Mickey too. Mickey just held him until he stopped trembling and kissed his cheeks, smearing the tear tracks with his lips.

 

Neither of them fell asleep again, but when the light from the rising sun began to filter through the patchy curtains in their bedroom, Mickey helped Ian sit up so he could watch it.


	4. Mickey holding Ian on one of his bad nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't quite a prompt, more someone posting the idea of like mickey curling up with ian to sleep and initially ian resists but mickey just holds him closely and tenderly until he relaxes into it yep. it's short and i didn't wanna make it its own fic so here it is

                Mickey meant to try to sleep the night Ian’s siblings had left his house after explaining Ian’s _disorder_. He felt lost at sea, his mind tripping over itself with medications, side effects, symptoms, and warnings. Words like depression and suicide and mania wouldn’t leave him alone and he couldn’t drink enough to make himself sleepy enough to silence his brain into unconsciousness.

 

                He tries, though. He drinks until things are fuzzy and crawls between the cool scratchy sheets on his side of the bed. Though he hadn’t used it much since he’d been sleeping curled up with Ian lately, it seemed like tonight of all nights he needed to give Ian his space. The night before, Ian’s first night since his crash, Mickey had tried to get close to him, to soak up his warmth and feel safe in his arms, but Ian had gone completely rigid and didn’t return any of Mickey’s touches. He told Mickey to leave him alone so many times that he’d dissolved into tears and Mickey hadn’t known what to do so he’s gone and slept on the couch. That had been murder on his back though, so hopefully giving Ian his space would be enough to keep him from having a panic attack.

 

                He didn’t know whether it was the liquor or the habituality of it but even without meaning to Mickey felt himself drifting towards Ian. Eventually he got within cuddling distance and he did, putting his arm around Ian and settling in spooned up against his back. Ian squirmed and pulled away, resisting Mickey’s touch. He scooted away from Mickey slowly, but soon encountered the edge of the bed. Faced with the decision to either get out of bed or give in a be cuddled he settled on the latter, sinking into the mattress like a dead weight.

 

                He complained quietly, voice hoarse, but Mickey only shushed him until he fell silent. He didn’t give Ian much of a choice, staying glued to his back. Ian remained stiff in Mickey’s arms and made no effort to reciprocate the affection. The tension only left his frame when he finally drifted off, but Mickey would take that. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck and fell asleep with him.


	5. Ian confessing a fetish to Mickey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompt!

                “Mm,” Mickey sighed, smiling lazily as he felt Ian stirring behind him. He felt the tickle of Ian nipping at the back of his neck and nuzzling his nose at the hair above where he teased with his teeth. Morning sex was pretty much Mickey’s favourite thing so he was all for it, rolling his hips back and pushing his ass against his boyfriend. He felt Ian’s grin against his skin and encouraged him softly, voice rough from sleep. “C’mon, Gallagher, bet I’m still all loose and wet from last night. All full of your come.”

 

                Ian bit into Mickey’s skin a bit harder and in a flash he was up and crouched over Mickey, long fingers gripping Mickey’s sides and rolling him mover onto his stomach. Mickey knew this game, and so he got up on his hands and knees and spread his legs wide for Ian.

 

                The redhead was on him in a second, tugging his sweats down and putting two fingers into Mickey’s messy loose hole. That didn’t last long before he was pulling them out and stooping down to replace them with his tongue. Ian was really going to town on him; he could feel spit and come running down his skin and dripping onto the bed. He buried his face in the pillows and absolutely whined. He loved when Ian got like this, just bent on rendering him incapable of coherent thought.

 

                After he’d successfully done that, made Mickey come on nothing more than Ian’s cock, then filled him with another load of come, he collapsed on top of Mickey. He was still buried inside Mickey, draped over him like a hot heavy man blanket of pure muscle. He returned to nuzzling at the back of Mickey’s neck, panting hot humid breaths there.

 

                “I might be a little obsessed with eating you out,” he admitted and Mickey huffed out a laugh.

 

                “Like I didn’t notice,” he snorted. Ian went quiet and Mickey could feel how he tensed up. Mickey rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallagher and his fucking feelings. “Ay, I say it was a bad thing? You better stay obsessed. I love it when you’re like that.”


	6. Mickey going down on Ian under the table at dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompt :)

“Ian, are you alright?” Fiona asked, looking up from the steak to raise her eyebrows at Ian where he sat across the table.

“And where is that other boy with the charming knuckle tattoos?” Candace asked, though despite her sarcasm she was thoroughly attached to Mickey. When asked later she’d answer vaguely that she was amused by his paranoid cagey attitude. He’d deny any allegations of being either of those adjectives and she’d just chuckle and drain her glass.

Ian dropped his fork for the fourth time and clutched at the tablecloth. He reached one hand under the table and bit his lip hard, breathing through his nose.

“Are you even trying to be subtle?” Jimmy/Steve/Jack asked around a mouthful of seasoned vegetables.

“I think he’s too far gone for that,” Lip said, not even bothering to look up from his plate. He’d hung out with Ian (and Mickey since they had taken to being attached at the hip) enough to know that this was how the game went.

“If only Ned were here,” Candace sighed wistfully, waving the waiter over to top up her glass. “He’d be so pissed off. But I guess he’s got himself a new ginger Boy Scout, hasn’t he?”

“This one’s almost thirty,” Debbie offered.

“He’s still Legal Ian,” Lip said.

“Fuck,” Ian sighed, trembling and curling his shoulders in as he finished. He leaned on his elbow and scrubbed his hand over his face and through his hair. Once he was steadier he sat back and did his pants back up, pulling his hand out from under the table and going back to his dinner. The rest of the table ignored him, though a couple of them snorted with laughter when Ian pulled up the tablecloth and Mickey crawled out. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smoothed down his hair so it was less messy where Ian’s hands had ravaged it. On his way back to his own chair Ian pulled him in by the front of his shirt, pressing a deep kiss to Mickey’s mouth. They made out for a minute and when Ian let him up Mickey’s eyes were hooded and he was worrying at his lip, wound up.

“Thanks,” Ian breathed, watching Mickey take his seat again.

“Yeah. My turn later,” Mickey said, clearing his throat and Ian laughed, ‘for sure’ and went back to his dinner. Fiona talked to him later and asked him to have a little more respect, but the next time they had dinner with Candace, they did it again.


	7. Mickey confesses a fetish to Ian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted me a second one of the "confessing a fetish" ones - the same as chapter 5 of this fic, so I decided to make this one Mickey confessing to Ian :) enjoy

Mickey crouched down and dug to the back of his closet, past Ian’s clothes and the sparse few he felt good enough about to hang up. He tugged out the shoebox where he kept his little stash. It was a guilty pleasure of his but it was well worth how pathetic he felt having such a dirty little secret.

He set the box on the bed and left it there, then went and took a shower. He shaved his legs smooth, ridding himself of his suspiciously light hair, and scrubbed himself clean. He shaved the scruff from his jaw and styled back his hair and brushed his teeth in anticipation of kissing his boyfriend.

Next he went to his box and started getting ready, slipping the lacy panties on and up his legs. He tucked himself into the gusset in the front and pulled them up so the warm cotton cupped his ass perfectly. He stepped into his dress and pulled it up over his hips, then up his torso where he slipped the straps over his shoulders. He straightened everything up in the mirror and stepped into his shoes. He did one final check before he took a deep breath and headed out to the kitchen.

Ian waited for him there, stirring something on the stove. He looked up and smiled at Mickey, turning off the stove and striding over to where Mickey stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

"You look gorgeous," Ian breathed with no small degree of awe, tracing his fingertips down Mickey’s sides. He relished the feeling of the fabric warmed by Mickey’s flesh, stopping at his hips to grope.

Mickey grinned crookedly up at him, still shorter than him even with the heels on. "Yeah, yeah. I’m beautiful and you love it when I do this for you. Wanna hurry up and fuck me on the kitchen table already?"

"Hey, you love it too," Ian reminded him, backing him up against the table and hauling him up onto it. His dress rode up when he spread his legs so Ian could stand between them. Mickey squirmed when Ian’s abdomen pressed better his legs and he nodded.

"Yeah, I do."


	8. Mickey convinces Ian to take a study break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was prompted by one of my really good friends, tumblr user spazaroni: "I don't know if you are still taking prompts, but I have an idea for you if you are. Would probably be considered AU, but it is if Ian were to go back to school, and with catching up// exam time, Ian would be getting stressed and Mickey is trying to find ways to distract him and get him to take a break."

             Ian scrubbed his hands through his hair and sat back in his chair, letting out a sound of frustration.

                “Just take a fucking break,” Mickey commented from where he watched TV in another corner of the room. “You’re making my head hurt just looking at you.”

                “I can’t take a break or I’ll fall asleep,” Ian argued. “And I need to finish this tonight.”

                “It’s not even due till Monday,” Mickey said.

                “Where the fuck did you get that? I _need_ to have it done tomorrow!”

                “Nah, you keep saying it’s not even due till Monday. You practically talk about it in your fuckin’ sleep,” Mickey said. Ian didn’t respond, just picked up his pen and had another go at it. He saw something in the problem he had been working on and solved it, then moved on to the next one. He was on a roll, burning through the questions, and he was so into it that he didn’t even know Mickey had moved until he felt his hands unbuckling his jeans.

                Ian yelped and shoved his chair back from the table with a scrape. Mickey moved with him, smirking up at him and palming Ian’s cock through his half-opened jeans.

                “I need to finish this, Mick. I don’t have time for a fuck break,” Ian said, taking Mickey’s hand and holding it to keep him from rubbing his crotch again. Mickey just used his other hand and Ian apprehended it too. Mickey was so determined to get the D he didn’t even freak out when Ian slotted their fingers together all boyfriend-like. Fitting, seeing as they were that now. Mickey still felt weird holding Gallagher’s hand though so he pulled until Ian let him go.

                “Not a fuck break. Just a blowjob break,” Mickey said, reaching to finish undoing Ian’s pants. Ian wiggled away and pushed Mickey’s hands away again.

                “No, Mickey. Unless you can suck my dick while I’m doing trig then be my guest,” he pushed at Mickey with his feet and he should have seen that devious little glimmer in his eye for the awful sign it was. Mickey obediently shuffled back under the table and let Ian scoot his chair back under it. “Otherwise, fuck off. Go play with your toys or something, I’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

                “Tomorrow ain’t soon enough, Firecrotch,” Mickey said, voice muffled from his place under the table. Ian dropped his pen when Mickey went to get his cock out again. “Ay, keep at your math or whatever. You said I could suck you off while you do it so that’s how it’s happening.”

                “Seriously, Mick?” Ian asked, but he didn’t try to push Mickey away again, just went back to his work. Predictably, he only managed to work for about two minutes before he clutched hard at his pen and invoked all the deities he could think of to the ceiling as Mickey wrung a swift orgasm out of him and lured him to their bedroom to fuck him properly.


	9. Mickey notices Ian's tattoo for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i received this anonymous prompt: "could you maybe write a little thing about mickey seeing ian's tattoo for the first time please"
> 
> hope the anon likes!

                Mickey had missed it the first time he’d had Ian naked, mostly because he was bent over one of the massage tables at the rub n’ tug. It was a little disgusting but they were horny and Mickey hadn’t had a good fuck since right before his wedding and he wasn’t picky about where it happened so long as it did.

 

                Then Ian was kicked out of his place by his wife and back at his family’s place and Mickey didn’t have many other chances to get him naked. He finally did see it after a round of sex at Ian’s place when they were both getting dressed again. He’d tugged on his sweats and lit a smoke then turned to offer it to Ian when he spotted it.

 

                “The fuck is that?” he asked, leaning across the bed to touch Ian’s side, fingers running over his inked skin. Ian paused putting his shirt on and grinned.

 

                “You like it?” Ian asked, twisting his torso and looking down at his own ribcage. “I got it done while I was in the army. Obnoxiously military, right? I was debating getting it on an American flag backdrop but the artist thought it was tacky.”

 

                “What, and that’s not?” Mickey asked, incredulous. “It’s really fuckin’ stupid.”

 

                “Yeah, ‘cause yours are so meaningful,” Ian said, rolling his eyes and tugging down his shirt. He got off the bed, all tense in his shoulders and irritated. Mickey sighed, wondering when Ian got so dramatic, and caught him by the wrist. He yanked Ian back down to the bed and pushed him on his back then climbed on top, straddling him.

 

                “Didn’t say it wasn’t hot,” Mickey said, shuffling back down Ian’s body so he could tug his shirt back up and investigate the tattoo a bit more closely. He ran his fingers over it and frowned. “Your artist’s a junkie. Shaky fucking hands, shaky fucking lines.”

 

                “I was pretty fucked up when I got it done and he was really cheap,” Ian admitted. “I got turned down by two guys before him who wouldn’t ink me ‘cause I was nearly incoherent.”

 

                “Sounds rough,” Mickey commented. He stroked the skin fondly. “I don’t like it, but I didn’t think you’d be so hot with tats. Don’t know why I never thought about it before. Would’ve been good spank bank material when you were off doing the G.I. Jane thing.”

 

                “You do that a lot?” Ian asked, smirking crookedly. “Jerk off thinking about me?”

 

                “Yeah,” Mickey replied, sheepish and uncharacteristically shy pretty suddenly. Probably had something to do with the not-strictly-sexual feelings he felt when he thought of Ian during that time. “Yeah, pretty much all the time.”

 

                This seemed to please Ian, who looked Mickey up and down. “You should get more,” Ian suggested, finding Mickey’s hands and stroking his thumbs over the older boy’s tattooed fingers. “Maybe something less crude, somewhere you’d like m to run my tongue over?”

 

                “Deal,” Mickey said, stooping down to kiss the grin off Ian’s face.


	10. Mickey's feelings when Ian kissed him on the head after he came out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted this: "mickey's feelings as ian kissed him on the head and the hour after said kiss"

                Mickey was probably in shock or something but everything was dulled by the glorious feelings of relief, of having a weight so massive and oppressive lifted off his shoulders, was so huge that he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was still the same dude, still a grumpy asshole at times who hated everybody, but he felt like he’d shed a thick caked-on shell of dirt. With that layer of filth washed away he felt like he could breathe again – or more like he’d surfaced from the tarpit of shit that living with Terry drowned him in. he was torn between pinching himself to wake from this dream and gulping down this new clean air greedily.

 

                Ian made some joked-veiled compliment about his legs and Mickey called him a fucking dick and he laughed. Not that off new laugh he’d taken to using – cracking up over not-funny shit way too much in a way that made Mickey cringe – but an honest laugh. Mickey could recall times when they’d worked together when Ian had laughed just like that and the connection of those times to now made him feel warmer in the chill of the night.

 

                The redhead slumped over a bit and clutched at his ribs, laughing too hard but unable to stop. Perhaps he was just as delirious with relief as Mickey was, though as always Ian was better at sorting out his feelings and had moved through enough to be able to react appropriately.

 

                “Yeah,” Mickey laughed, mindful of his own injuries. Ian cursed and Mickey continued. “There. That’s what you get.”

 

                Their laughter calmed until they were left catching their collective breaths. Mickey ran his tongue over his teeth, lingering on the edge where he felt the chip missing. He was about to spit again, to get the newly-pooled blood out of his mouth, but he froze when Ian closed the distance between them.

 

                He stepped closer to Mickey and put an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder and pulling him in against his chest. Mickey only leaned into the touch a little bit and he missed the embrace when Ian pressed a kiss to the top of his head and pulled away. His hair was dirty and he just had the shit beaten out of him by his father but he was still capable of feeling stupid giddy feelings because of this infuriating hot ginger.

 

                When he didn’t respond much to the entirely-too-public kiss Ian just kept looking at him. His eyes were all probing and curious and Mickey didn’t want to dissect the feelings just yet so he just shoved at Ian a little rougher than his injuries allowed, and scowled when Ian teased him for the incredibly pathetic yelp he let out.


	11. Ian calls Mickey baby during sex and Mickey gets upset but ends up liking it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this for tumblr user heatherinthegardn's prompt: "Mickey getting upset that Ian called him "baby" during sex... but he secretly likes it"

                Mickey raked his nails down over Ian’s chest. Blunt as they were he still left marks and Ian arched and squirmed beneath him. He flexed his thighs and started riding Ian harder, propping himself up on Ian’s abdomen.

 

                “Shit,” Ian gasped, clutching at Mickey’s hips. When Mickey paused Ian cursed again and squeezed his eyes shut, squeezing Mickey and trying to grind up into him.

 

                “Hands off,” Mickey ordered and Ian immediately dropped his hands to the bed at his sides, holding onto the sheets like he yearned to hold on to Mickey. “Ay, eyes open. Look at me.”

 

                Ian did as he was told, watching Mickey moving on top of him. “Fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” he sighed, squeezing his handfuls of sheets hard.

 

                Mickey froze, staring down at Ian who was lost in the sensation of Mickey around him. When Mickey stopped moving, Ian lost his patience and took over. He slung an arm around Mickey’s waist and rolled them over, slamming Mickey against the mattress and sinking down between his legs. He hiked Mickey’s thighs up around his waist and leaned most of his weight into Mickey. Mickey’s distress was soon forgotten when Ian started absolutely ravishing him, slamming into him again and again and jerking him off until he came, making a mess between their bodies.

 

                Ian finished inside Mickey, murmuring his name like a plea where he had his mouth up against the side of Mickey’s neck. He collapsed on top of Mickey, cock still softening inside him, and they laid there together in a heap, panting.

 

                He probably would have been better prepared if he’d anticipated the sucker punch Mickey delivered to his stomach. He also probably wouldn’t have cried out like a little bitch when it happened either. He rolled off of Mickey and clutched at his side where Mickey had punched him.

 

                “What the fuck was that for?” he wheezed.

 

                “I don’t know Gallagher, the fuck was that ‘baby’ shit?” Mickey asked, scowling at Ian. “We’ve been over this. I don’t do fuckin’ pet names and I’m definitely not your fuckin’ _baby_.”

 

                “You’re whining enough to be one,” Ian groaned, earning another lighter smack of Mickey’s hand against his chest. Ian didn’t act sorry at all and Mickey took it personally, rolling away from him and sulking with his back to him.

 

                “C’mon, Mick,” Ian sighed, scooting in closer behind Mickey, who squirmed away to the edge of the bed. Ian just followed him until Mickey would have to get out of bed to escape but Ian knew he wouldn’t.

 

                “Don’t touch me, motherfucker,” Mickey growled, elbowing Ian in the ribs until he backed off a bit. He was back in a second, one arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist and spanning his stomach with his wide palm and long fingers. He kissed at Mickey’s neck and stroked up his chest, playing with one of Mickey’s nipples until his back arched.

 

                “Mm, knew you’d warm up to me,” Ian murmured. He nosed at the downy dark hairs on the back of Mickey’s neck. “You always do.”

 

                “Fuck off,” he mumbled, though his shiver at the feeling of Ian’s warm breath on his neck was more telling than his words.

 

                “Nah,” Ian said. He stroked down Mickey’s chest and the V of his pelvis, tugging lightly on the coarse trail of hair leading down his stomach to the base of his cock. He nipped at Mickey’s earlobe. “Love how your body reacts to my touch,” he breathed, humid against Mickey’s ear. “... _baby_ ,” he added, clutching Mickey’s body against his.

 

                Mickey didn’t even struggle though, just leaned back into Ian’s body and choked out a moan.

 

                “You like it,” Ian observed, hand close around Mickey’s filling cock. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think it’s hot as fuck,” Ian told him and he moaned aloud. Ian knew that he had him then, and he noticed that when he slipped pet names into their interactions after that Mickey didn’t verbally protest and Ian was incredibly smug.


	12. Ian makes Mickey beg for it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompted: Ian makes Mickey beg for it

                “Fuck, Gallagher,” Mandy heard Mickey groan from the other room. On the couch? _Really_?

 

                “Stop struggling,” she heard Ian say, voice firm. That was a _command_. Why the fuck were they doing their weird kinky shit on the fucking living room couch?

 

                She heard some whines that she’d use to taunt Mickey until one of them died, and Ian spoke again.

 

                “Beg.”

 

                “Fuck off,” Mickey groaned breathlessly.

 

                “No. Beg me for it,” Ian repeated, and Mickey made a frankly pathetic sound. Mandy could hear them scuffling on the couch. If it was anyone but Mickey Mandy would probably have been a bit worried but she knew he brother wouldn’t love to Ian in a fight unless he wanted to. She concluded that they had some fucking weird sex and went back to washing dishes and trying to ignore them.

 

                The sounds of struggle slowed to a stop and Mickey mumbled something.

 

                “Louder,” Ian ordered and even Mandy couldn’t deny that Ian’s dominant voice was pretty hot. She could understand why Mickey would like it, and why he cracked a second later.

 

                “Fuck, alright, please,” Mickey babbled. “Please stop, I’m almost fucking crying, _please_ -“

 

                Mandy’s hackles went up then. Ian was doing something Mickey didn’t want and Ian was using it to manipulate him into begging? It seemed fishy to Mandy so she crept to look past the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.

 

                She peeked past the edge of the wall to see the pair on the couch, Ian straddling Mickey who squirmed and cursed at him. One of Ian’s hands held Mickey’s struggling wrists above his head and the other was touching him all over his chest and hips. It looked like any regular making out and wandering hands kind of foreplay except for Mickey’s red face and glistening eyes. They hadn’t noticed her yet so she watched for another moment, trying to figure them out.

 

                Ian’s hand drifted over Mickey’s ribs, fingers digging into his skin through his shirt, and Mickey arched in a way that was so familiar to Mandy that she couldn’t have missed it for anything. She threw her hands up in exasperation and let out a long huff, stomping back to the kitchen.

 

                Elbows-deep in soapy dishwater she heard Mickey yelp; “Please stop fucking tickling me!” and she contemplated throwing a plate at the for their dorkiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an example of what happens when i get vague prompts.
> 
> [hit me up for prompts!](http://likingwhatilikedontmakemeahohoho.tumblr.com/)


	13. Mickey is there for Debbie after her latest breakup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompted: Mickey has a heart to hear with Debbie after her latest breakup. Ian overhears and then talks to Mickey about it

Mickey wandered downstairs at 2am to get a couple mouthfuls of the leftovers from dinner that night, but he never expected to walk in on Debbie sitting at the kitchen table sobbing her eyes out. He froze in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at her. He contemplated going back upstairs, hungry or not, and pretending like he’d never seen her there in such a vulnerable position. Unfortunately spending time with all these do-gooder Gallaghers had brought out the decent human being in him so he went to the fridge and got a beer instead.

“Oh!” Debbie squeaked, voice all choked-up and face all ruddy from bawling. She scrubbed at her eyes and sniffed loudly. “S-sorry, Mickey. Just give me a second and I’ll be out of here and you can do whatever you need to.”

“You want a beer?” he asked, and she shook her head so he closed the fridge and brought his own beer over to the table. He opened it and took a seat across from Debbie, who was still sniffling and wiping at her tears. She worked to get herself together and he just sat there. When he’d been sitting looking at her expectantly for what had to be over a minute, Mickey spoke.

“Spit it out, Red. What’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked, taking a swig of his beer and eyeing Debbie.

After a couple of false starts, Debbie opened up. She had had another breakup with the older guy she apparently wanted to fuck (Mickey wondered what it was with redheaded Gallaghers and older guys) and she puked her heart out on the dining room table with Mickey sitting there witnessing it. It got way too personal for Mickey way too quickly but he endured it, constantly pushing down the urge to flee back upstairs to the warm bed and his clingy boyfriend. Maybe Ian would be down to fuck? Mickey would take whatever he could get after experiencing such an emotional bout of word vomit.

“So I don’t know what to do,” Debbie said, a conclusion to her ten page paper entitled “The Falsely-Concocted Concept of Virginity: Why I Don’t Get Why Matty Won’t Sleep With Me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you kid,” Mickey replied when it became clear that it was more of a question than a statement.

“What would you do?” she asked and Mickey laughed internally.

“I’m not a model boyfriend and you shouldn’t do what I do,” Mickey replied, thinking back to all the aggressive ways he’d worked out his jealousy and all the stupid things he’d done to avoid his feelings for Ian. Juvie the first time, juvie the second time, kicking the shit out of that geriatric viagroid (though he had no regrets about that), kicking the shit out of Ian (that he regretted a lot), and not chasing after Ian like some bitch when he’d told him he was leaving to join the army just to name a few.

He was indeed the worst person to ask this question to, and yet Debbie still persisted. “Then just hypothetically: what would you do?”

Mickey narrowed his eyes at her. He’d heard all about how literally she took Mandy’s advice. He shrugged and gave her the least dangerous advice he could think of. “Just be there. If he really cares about you, be there when he thinks you’re ready or whatever. Not that he should be the one to decide that for you, that’s some real bullshit.”

“But he wants to wait till I’m sixteen,” Debbie sighed.

“Yeah? That’s like, what, two or three more years?” Mickey asked. Debbie sniffed and nodded. “If he’s really so perfect and you don’t want to be with anyone but him then two or three years is nothing.”

“Is that what you did?” Debbie asked. “Like how you thought about it when Ian joined the army?”

“Yeah,” Mickey mumbled, thought at the time ‘four years, minimum’ had seemed like an eternity. “Yeah. It’s nothing when you finally get to be with him.”

Debbie didn’t verbally respond to that beyond saying ‘thanks’ and patting him on the shoulder as she passed him on her way upstairs.

Mickey sat at the table just long enough to finish his beer. He started when he heard Ian’s voice when he cleared his throat from the kitchen doorway.

“How long you been there, man?” Mickey asked, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Long enough,” Ian replied. He smiled and stepped in close to the table. “So a couple years would be like nothing?”

“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Mickey grumbled. Ian laughed and leaned down to kiss the top of Mickey’s head.


	14. What happens when Ian wakes up in Mickey's bed after 4x07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr user painfully-oblivious prompted me: "what happens when Ian wakes up in mickeys bed" and i hope they enjoy it!
> 
> ps: sorry this is sad :(

                Ian wasn’t totally shocked to wake up with a fuzzy brain in an unfamiliar bed. That was a pretty average night for him, though in a shocking plot twist his mouth didn’t taste like dick and he wasn’t all sore from sex with random guys. So that was something, he supposed.

 

                He vaguely registered the flowery comforter and the perfume lingering in the air and in the fabrics. He thought maybe the room belonged to a woman but he was thrown off by all of the decidedly straight man decor. It reminded him of the most aggressively heterosexual guy he knew – though it wouldn’t do to think about that particular waste of time right now. Best to just case the place, scoop all the shit he could pawn, and take off.

 

                Ian got out of bed and only stumbled a couple steps before he was steady enough to try and remember the night before. He remembered Mickey showing up at the club and the practically robotic dance he gave his ex-whatever. He’d tried to get Ian to go home and Roger escorted him out and it was at that point that Ian started drinking more heavily than usual and that was as far back as he could remember.

 

                He dug through the top drawer in the dresser he found against the wall and contemplated the evidence he had before him. The perfume in the bed made him think he’d either gone home with a woman or with a married man. The second option was way more likely, but the band posters seemed pretty teenage so he had trouble imagining that the guy was old enough to be getting married. This was so far from Ian’s usual hook-up but he didn’t think much on it since he didn’t plan on sticking around.

 

                The top drawer was full of knives and guns and Ian slammed it shut since it wasn’t anything he could pawn. He rooted through the other two drawers and found nothing but balled-up clothes and didn’t even bother to close to drawers before he gave up and moved on, looking for his shoes so he could get the fuck out of the strange room. He found them shoved under the edge of the bed and was halfway through lacing up his second shoe when the door to the room creaked open.

 

                He figured he’d look up and see his hook-up from the night before or a scandalized wife. The last person he expected to see was Mandy Milkovich with her hand clapped over her mouth.

 

                “Ian?” she gasped, striding over to Ian and throwing her arms around him. Ian hugged her back, tense once he put the pieces together. When she pulled back and said “oh, thank fuck he found you,” Ian was certain that his suspicions were true.

 

                “I gotta go,” Ian mumbled, pulling away from Mandy to finish putting his shoes on. he stared resolutely at the floor as Mandy stepped in close to him again and tried to touch his shoulders.

 

                “Ian, please-“

 

                “I gotta go, Mandy. Got work later, gotta go home,” Ian insisted, rattling it off like he had with countless hook-ups in the past when he hadn’t managed to sneak out without the guy trying to make him breakfast.

 

                “It’s noon and you work in a fucking nightclub,” Mandy said. She grabbed Ian by the forearm and pushed him against the door frame when he tried to push past her. “Don’t fucking lie to be, Ian. I’m trying to help you.”

 

                “You can’t help me,” Ian told her, shoving past. “Don’t send him looking for me again.”

 

                “Fuck that,” Mandy said, holding tight to Ian’s arm. Her nails dug in to his bicep. “You told me you were squatting with your mom. She still in the picture?”

 

                Ian squared his jaw but didn’t struggle or move to push past Mandy again. She tried again. “Ian. Is she still around?”

 

                “No,” Ian replied. “She took off a couple weeks ago, but it doesn’t matter. I’m fine without her.”

 

                “I’m not saying you aren’t,” Mandy assured him. “I’m just saying you could do better.”

 

                “I’m not going home,” he told her. “All my family does is tie me down. I’m done living the way other people want me to live.”

 

                “Live however you want, just do it _here_ ,” Mandy urged. She edged on begging. “Dad’s got a few months in the joint ahead of him. Crash here until you get your shit sorted out.” Ian looked reluctant and cast a look at the door. “Please, Ian.”

 

                He looked down at her. “I’m not gonna live somewhere I’m not wanted. That’s one of the reasons I don’t want to go back to my siblings.”

 

                Mandy apparently didn’t have an argument for that and let Ian shoulder his way past. She followed him to the door and bit her lip. With his hand on the doorknob, she grabbed his other wrist and turned her big baby blues on him.

 

                “Think about it. Weigh your options. Front door’s open and I’m sure I can come up with a bed for you if you want it,” Ian nodded without a word and Mandy offered him a tiny smile. “See you later, Ian.”

 

                When Mandy came home from work the next day to find Ian conked out in her bed she felt more relief than she had felt in a very long time. Now if only she could just keep Mickey and Svetlana off Ian’s case, maybe he would stick around and let Mandy help him out. As much as she tried to be optimistic, she had an overwhelming feeling that something terrible was gonna happen.


	15. Ian and Mickey coming home after Mickey's coming out and showering to get cleaned up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pass me the soap,” Ian murmured, leaning his good shoulder against the slick shower wall. Mickey reached past him to get the soap.
> 
> “Can’t reach it,” he grunted, straining his sore muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got an anonymous prompt for: "ian/mickey coming home after mickey's coming out and showering to get cleaned up"
> 
> hope anon enjoys! :)

                “Pass me the soap,” Ian murmured, leaning his good shoulder against the slick shower wall. Mickey reached past him to get the soap.

 

                “Can’t reach it,” he grunted, straining his sore muscles.

 

                “Not shocked,” Ian chuckled. He twisted and let Mickey lean on him and finally grab the soap. “Not with those T-Rex arms of yours.”

 

                “Fuck off,” Mickey growled, smacking Ian in the stomach with his knuckles. It was far gentler than usual due to Mickey being sensitive to Ian’s injured ribs, and it was a testament to Mickey’s fondness for Ian. As if the evening in general hadn’t already shown that.

 

                He gave Ian the soap and turned around to let him wash his back and soon he had Ian’s long fingers and strong hands rubbing at his shoulders and soothing some of his soreness. Occasionally his fingers would trip over a sensitive spot and Mickey would hiss and flinch away, and Ian would press light kisses to the bruises.

 

                “Get your fuckin’ mouth off me unless you’re gonna get on your knees and put it to work somewhere else,” Mickey told Ian, eyebrow raised.

 

                “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Ian said, smacking Mickey’s ass and holding him by the hips to coax him into turning around. “Once my jaw feels less swollen. Now turn around.”

 

                “Why? If you’re not gonna suck my dick I doubt you’re gonna eat me out,” Mickey groused, but let Ian direct him until they were facing one another. He ran his soapy hands over Mickey’s front, stroking over his collarbone and his pecs, pausing to play with his nipples. Mickey laughed and swatted at Ian’s hands and told him to fuck off. Ian took his flailing hands and held them, pulling Mickey in and kissing his grinning mouth.

 

                Mickey pushed Ian back with a frown. “Less tongue, man.”

 

                “Poor baby,” Ian teased, pInching Mickey’s nipple one more time before he stroked his fingers down his boyfriend’s sides. “I’d offer to kiss it better, but that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

 

                “Hi-larious,” Mickey grumbled. Still, he watched as Ian looked him over, running his fingers over new bruises and old scars. Mickey would have complained, said ‘you done, or you gonna let the fuckin’ water run cold?’ but he was so tired and Ian’s hands on him felt so good.

 

                The touching got a little firmer and Ian pulled him in again, cupping his face and kissing him. Before too long Mickey was pulling away as far as he could in the cramped Milkovich bathtub.

 

                “Ay, take it easy. Push it much further and we’re gonna have a problem.” Mickey stepped under the spray and rinsed off the soap Ian had rubbed onto his skin. “You and I both know we’re too tired and beat up to finish each other.”

 

                “What, you don’t want me to fall asleep on top of you with my dick still in you?” Ian chuckled.

 

                “Real funny. We done here?” he made to pull back the curtain and step out into the chilly bathroom but Ian held onto his wrist.

 

                “Should probably wash the blood out of your hair,” Ian said, pulling him back under the spray. He let out a yelp at the water and blood in his eyes but eventually quieted down and let Ian scrub at his scalp until the water ran clear. Mickey looked up at Ian through wet eyelashes and Ian laughed.

 

                “Guess you’d offer to wash mine but you can’t really reach, can you?”

 

                “Fuck off, you giant ginger fuck,” Mickey growled, smacking Ian in the chest with the shampoo bottle. “You can do it yourself, fuckin’ giraffe.”

 

                “What’s the law on sex with animals?” Ian asked, cheeky, and Mickey fled at that. He slipped out past the curtain and found a towel, but then the soreness caught up with him and he slowed it down.

 

                Ian gave his scalp a quick scrub and rinsed out his hair too, then he was out and the shower was off before Mickey had even left the room. Ian got his own towel and patted dry what he needed to before he was herding Mickey off down the hall to their room.

 

                Their towels were lost as soon as the door was closed and Mickey burrowed in the covers as soon as he was able. Ian jumped onto the bed beside him and instantly regretted it, letting out a huff of pain.

 

                “Watch it, tough guy,” Mickey warned him, though there was genuine concern in his voice. “You’re gonna fuckin’ hurt yourself even more.”

 

                “Not possible,” Ian declared, tucking his legs up and letting Mickey pull the covers over him. Ian radiated heat like a furnace and Mickey scooted closer until they were almost pressed together, pelvis to pelvis. Ian reached over and curled an arm around his middle, pulling him in and closing the gap.

 

                After a couple curses from Mickey for the manhandling, they fell quiet. Ian’s arms stayed around Mickey and Mickey’s hand found a bicep it was fondly stroking. They settled in for the night, feeling their deep aches sink into their bodies like the leaden lull of sleep. Ian tried to initiate one more sleepy kiss but Mickey was unresponsive, fast asleep. His eyelashes fluttered against his bruised cheek so Ian settled for pressing soft kisses to his damaged skin instead.


	16. Uninterrupted Anal Bead Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted this from me!

                “A’right, I gotta get to work,” Ian said, pulling himself off the couch in Mickey’s living room to gather up his clothes. He smirked as he looked down at the blanket thrown over the couch. It would never be the same again.

 

                Mickey strode around the back of the couch, naked as the day he was born except for the marks on his ass. “Alright. Just... gimme a minute, okay?”

 

                Ian noted his wobbly legs as he came to a stop in front of him, and thought with pride _I did that_. The clacking sound of lacquered wood drew Ian’s attention to the string of massive wooden balls Mickey was holding before the older boy held them up. “Wanna do the honours?”

 

                Giving Mickey a look, Ian took them from him, holding them up and twisting them this way and that. He pursed his lips as he considered them. “Is it a rosary for giants?”

 

                “Nah,” Mickey chuckled, grinning even as Ian held them up across his collarbone like a necklace. Ian watched as Mickey flushed, suddenly unwilling to meet Ian’s eyes. To see Mickey even the slightest bit shy like this had him intrigued. “Nah, man, they’re – uh – they’re Ben-Wa beads.” He let that sit for a minute and when Ian didn’t immediately understand he went on. “You shove ‘em up my ass and you pull ‘em out real slow.”

 

                Ian looked down at the beads in his hands with a whole new understanding, looking mostly scared but a bit curious. He settled on skepticism, holding them up and furrowing his brows. “Are you sure these are going to fit?”

 

                Mickey didn’t answer immediately so Ian went on.

 

                “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, going in the tender caring not-quite-boyfriend direction. Mickey snorted.

 

                “Jesus fucking Christ. I wouldn’t have given them to you if I didn’t know I can handle it.” He leaned down to grab the bottle of store-brand lube and shoved it into Ian’s chest. He took the bottle from Mickey, who went on. “Now stop being a little bitch and lube them up.”

 

                Ian raised his eyebrows and looked down at the things Mickey had handed him. “Oh, I’m the bitch now.”

 

                “Ay, if the shoe fits,” Mickey said, shrugging. “The sparkly high-heeled girly shoe.”

 

                “So, does this mean you’ve used these before?” Ian asked, smug when Mickey rubbed at his mouth like he usually did when he was deflecting and smirked when he changed the subject.

 

                “Think we can cut back on the chit-chat?” he asked, gruff but bashful. “You gonna do it or what?”

 

                “Yeah, yeah. Hold your bossy bottom horses,” Ian said, smiling to himself as he popped the cap on the lube and slicked up the beads. Feeling them he lubed them up made him even more nervous and he looked down at them again. “Are you _sure_ they’re gonna fit? Pretty sure they’re thicker than my dick.”

 

                “Yeah, they are,” Mickey rolled his eyes at Ian’s scandalized look. “Don’t you fucking pussy out on me ‘cause you’re feeling insecure about your cock. You got nothing to worry about. You’re still a stud or whatever.”

 

                Ian was going to argue but Mickey kept going and what he said resulted in Ian’s brain thoroughly short-circuiting. “You wanna get on with it, so do I have to do it myself?”

 

                Once his brain had finished melting, Ian asked; “You – uh – you do that? Use them on yourself?”

 

                “Why the fuck else would I buy them?” Mickey asked, giving him a look that suggested he’d been repeatedly dropped on his head as a child. “Sure as hell wasn’t some blushing virgin before he starting banging.”

 

                “I didn’t think that,” Ian protested. “You took my cock way too easily the first time to have never done it before,” he continued, smirk sly.

 

                “You calling me a slut, fuckhead?” Mickey asked, his voice playful but edged with challenge.

 

                Ian held up the now-slippery beads for emphasis. “Just saying.”

 

                “Fuck off, Gallagher. You forget you fucked your boss, that kid from baby army, and that old guy? If anyone’s a slut here, it’s you.” Mickey punched Ian in the arm and took the beads off him. “Now let’s stop fucking talking and get to it before I change my mind.”

 

                “You’re gonna do it?” Ian asked, though he certainly wasn’t going to do anything to stop it. He sat on one end of the couch and Mickey sat at the other, sitting up against the arm of it.

 

                “I said I would, didn’t I?” Mickey huffed. He took the lube from where Ian had dropped it on the couch and slicked a couple fingers, wasting no time in pushing them into himself. “Quit fucking gawking or I won’t do it.”

 

                Ian enjoyed how Mickey’s voice came out breathy when he breached himself. He wondered how he could do anything but stare when the object of his fantasies lay before him, fucking himself on two fingers and about to fill himself up with a toy. He voiced this; “I can’t _not_ stare.” He looked down at Mickey where he opened himself up and then up into his eyes. “You’re really hot.”

 

                “Well stop fuckin’ talking then,” Mickey sighed, stretching himself deftly. He must have done this a hundred times before. “Don’t need you babbling in my ear and distracting me.”

 

                Ian wanted to argue since he _knew_ Mickey liked a little dirty talk but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead he watched in silence as Mickey finished opening himself up. It was hard not to tell Mickey how hot he was and to run his hands all over his pale body when he pulled his fingers out and pushed one of the huge beads into himself. His breath hitched and his chest convulsed when he took the substantial girth of the bead.

 

                Ian looked up at his face, his flushed cheeks and clenched-shut eyes and the way he bit at his lip. He scooted in closer to Mickey to run his hands up the smaller boy’s thighs. Mickey’s eyes snapped open and he looked down at Ian, who didn’t speak, just nudged Mickey’s legs open a little wider and settled in to watch.

 

                Once he’d gotten past the initial uneasiness of having Ian’s eyes on him, Mickey took to the attention like a seasoned pornstar. He ground down on the toy filling him up and his mouth got filthier with each bead he stuffed himself with. He was louder than Ian had ever seen him and Ian _loved_ it.

 

                “Gonna fuck you,” Ian told him, breaking his promise not to talk while Mickey showed him the beads. “Once you come from those beads.”

 

                “What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me after I come?” Mickey asked, and Ian had to give him credit for saying it without so much as a stammer.

 

                “’Cause you love my dick and you love how I fuck you with it,” Ian replied, cocky since he knew Mickey found his confidence hot as fuck. “And anyways I’ll just make you come again.”

 

                “Yeah? You sure about that?” Mickey asked, smirking and playful. “You better fuckin’ deliver, Gallagher. Or else you’re out on your ass.”

 

                “When have I ever given you anything besides really good orgasms?” Ian asked. Mickey had stopped shoving beads into himself while he talked to Ian so he shifted closer to Mickey and took up the end of the beads between Mickey’s legs.

 

                He smirked when Mickey tensed up as he tugged teasingly. Mickey was tight around the beads and he clutched at the couch underneath them when Ian pulled one of them out. He immediately pushed it back against Mickey’s rim and the other boy whimpered when his body took it.

 

                Mickey squirmed and let out a long moan when Ian leaned down and lapped at the puddle of precome that had built up on Mickey’s tummy. Ian turned his head and sucked the flushed tip of Mickey’s erection past his lips as he pulled the last bead out again. Mickey’s hips jerked and he pushed himself up on his elbows to watch Ian.

 

                Green eyes flicked up to look at him and Ian watched Mickey’s face as he slowly tugged another bead free from his body. Mickey broke the eye contact and buried his face in the blanket of the couch to avoid embarrassing himself.

 

                Ian pulled off immediately, letting Mickey’s wet dick fall against his stomach. “Hey – no, Mickey, look at me.” When Mickey didn’t obey, Ian reached up his free hand and cupped Mickey’s face with it, turning it. “It’s just us, Mick. I wanna see your face and hear your sounds.”

 

                Mickey grumped for another moment and tried to pull away but Ian’s grip on him was firm. “Fine,” he eventually caved. “But enough with the beads. If I’m gonna make fuckin’ gay sounds and faces it’s gonna be with your even-gayer cock in my ass.”

 

                Ian grinned and leaned in, aiming for Mickey’s mouth but pecking his chin instead when Mickey jerked his head away. “I can do that.”

 

                “Then get to it, soldier,” Mickey said, cheeky even as he tried to be grumpy with Ian. Ian was gentle as he removed the other two beads and Mickey’s complaining must have gotten through to him since he was nothing short of brutal when he fucked Mickey afterward. When his brothers came back from their run later that day he made up some shit about hurting himself jumping a fence on the run from the cops to explain his limp. Though when Ian saw him walking funny at work later his gaze was hot  and possessive and every casual touch Ian gave him felt like heat through his clothes and fire on his skin.


	17. Ian and Mickey are 15/16ish and get placed in a foster home together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon prompted this from me: "Ian and Mickey are like 15/16 years old (or younger) and get placed into a foster home together."
> 
> hope you like it anon!

                When Melissa caught Mickey smoking out the window of the bedroom he shared with the three other boys staying at the foster home, she was surprisingly calm. She’d probably worn herself out stressing over Mickey and chewing him out for his careless disobedience. He couldn’t blame her. He was a fucking brat.

 

                “You’re going to clean this room,” she told him simply. “Before you go to school tomorrow.”

 

                Mickey expected a thread like he’d get from Robert, Melissa’s husband, but it never came. She just left the room then. She didn’t even make Mickey out of his smoke or take his pack from him. He finished it and flicked the butt out the window, getting to his feet.

 

                He started cleaning the room, since it was much easier to do as he was told than to let his too-caring foster parents try and drag it out and teach him a lesson. He gathered up the dirty laundry and put it in the hamper which he would bring to the laundry room when he was done cleaning. He changed the sheet and made the four beds and straightened up what he found to be out of place.

 

                He had to crawl under the desk in the corner near Simon’s bed in order to retrieve a wayward juicebox that had somehow found its way under there. While he was down there he saw something sticking out from behind the drawer in the desk where it was pressed against the wall. It looked like it was made of some kind of paper – cardstock, maybe a part of the packaging from something.

 

                It took some reaching but eventually Mickey snagged it with his fingertips and fished it out. It was beige file folder with what looked like straight porn magazine cutouts glued all over it. He lost interest immediately at the sight of all the squishy tits and curvy hips but the tiny lingering curiosity in the back of his mind prompted him to flip it open.

 

                Oh... _okay_. This was more Mickey’s speed. He leafed through the pages of gay porn in the folder and felt his body responding to it. His hand was inching towards his dick when he heard a door close from downstairs and he jumped like a startled cat. He rolled up the folder and tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie and fled to the bathroom to rub one out.

 

                Later that night he thought back to the folder and wondered for the first time whose it could be. He lived with three others boys in the house – Simon, a shy twelve-year-old kid with huge glasses who played three different instruments or some shit; Carlos, a loud-mouthed Puerto-Rican troublemaker who knocked up thirteen girls by seventeen; and Ian, a lanky red-headed fitteen-year-old who was inot the extra-curricular baby army thing at their school.

 

                Mickey basically ruled out Carlos since he’d have to have had sex with all those girls to get them pregnant. If he had to guess between Ian and Simon he would probably go with Simon. During dinner he watched the younger boy carefully. Now that he had a target, he’d narrow it down stealthily until he was absolutely sure.

 

                And by ‘narrow it down stealthily’ he meant cornering Simon in the laundry room later when he was sorting and folding the dry laundry. The boy jumped when he looked up and saw Mickey there, dropping the pair of socks he’d been folding.

 

                “Are you fuckin’ gay?” Mickey asked.

 

                It took longer than Mickey liked to get an answer out of Simon since he was scared shitless. It was even worse that Simon was one step above sobbing when he told Mickey no, he wasn’t gay.

 

                Mickey pulled the folder out of his hoodie and brandished it like a weapon. “So this isn’t yours?”

 

                “N-no,” Simon squeaked. “It had to be Carlos’ or Ian’s!”

 

                “Are you sure?” Mickey asked after a second’s pause, narrowing his eyes.

 

                “Yes! Please don’t beat me up,” Simon begged and Mickey left him alone then, shoving the folder back into his hoodie.

 

                He didn’t see Ian until school the next day because he went in early for work that morning. Mickey’s sister was best friends with Ian and they had practically the same schedule so Mickey bummed a smoke off Mandy before first period and asked her about her schedule.

 

                “I’ve got history first period and then english, and then I’ve got a spare,” Mandy told him and Mickey formed a plan. He’d try and get Ian alone during his spare and confront him about the folder. He found Mandy hanging around the cafeteria during this period. Alone.

 

                “Where’s Gallagher at?” he asked, then divert suspicion; “Don’t he hang off you likea fucking hemorrhoid?”

 

                “He’s got gym,” Mandy replied, sipping her coffee. “His spare isn’t until after lunch.”

 

                _Good to know_ , Mickey thought. He made small talk with Mandy for another moment before he went to the gym. He bummed around outside until the class ended and waited outside the change room until Gallagher came out. He was one of the last ones and Mickey grabbed him by the shoulders as he passed, wheeling him around until he was heading back into the change room.

 

                “Mickey? What the fuck?” he asked, trying to turn and look at Mickey but the older boy just kept pushing at him until he was forced back into the change room and near the showers. The room was echoey but quiet. Their shuffling and shifting was the only noise in the room.

 

Mickey left Ian shoved against the wall, probably fearing for his life (or at least the pretty _pretty_ face) and swung his bag off his shoulder. He stooped down to dig around past his binders and came out  with the folder he’d found, passing it to Ian.

 

“This yours?” he asked and he didn’t need to wait for Ian’s tentative nod to know that he’d found the culprit. “So you’re gay?”

 

                “Yes,” he replied, then immediately said; “Please don’t beat me up.”

 

                Mickey paused. He’d probably come to the conclusion based on what Mandy had told him about their family, their father in particular. “I’m not going to beat you up.”

 

                Ian looked up from the folder where he’d been staring. Mickey stepped in and got a grip on the front of Ian’s t-shirt with his fist. He yanked Ian down so he wouldn’t have to get on his toes and pressed their mouths together. Ian’s jaw went slack and Mickey heard him drop the folder a moment before his arms circled Mickey’s waist and pulled him in. Ian kissed him back and held him tight and the next time Melissa asked Mickey to do something he did it. He was pretty comfy at his assigned home and the only sure-fire way to continued getting laid on the daily by Gallagher would be to play good boy so he wouldn’t get shipped off to another one. He could do that. For the sake of his sex life. (For Ian.)


	18. Sex gets intimate while Mickey isn't looking and he freaks out a bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [facade-expert](http://facade-expert.tumblr.com/) sent me this prompt: Mickey freaking out during sex because it got intimate when he wasn't looking. Ian reacts. How Ian reacts is up to you.
> 
> i hope they like it (though that blog is empty now...)

                Fucking face to face wasn’t Mickey’s favourite thing but it was definitely growing on him. He’d been so sure that it would be the worst thing ever but then once while they were banging Ian had rolled him a bit onto his side and rearranged his legs and the change in angle and the different sensations brought on by it had him a lot more open to trying new things.

 

                So after the rolled-to-the-side fucking Mickey received, he brought on the new positions himself. They did a dozen new things and Mickey’s favourite was either when he climbed on top of Ian and sucked his dick and Ian fingered him open and ate him out or when he straddled Ian’s hips and rode him. Both had their pros and cons (he loved it when Ian are him out sloppily and he was always sloppy when Mickey was sucking his dick but on the other hand he had trouble focusing on what he was supposed to be doing. When he rode Ian he could hold him down and tease him and control the pace of their fucking, but his inherent laziness usually led him to coax Ian into rolling over and fucking him when he got tired) but he seeked to try as many different positions as possible before he settled on a favourite.

 

                The next time they fucked it was in the back of the store early in the afternoon and they watched a customer leave before they shared a steamy look. Ian hopped off the stool behind the counter and went to the door to lock it and put up a sign, and Mickey headed to the back room to dig their stash of lube, condoms, and baby wipes out from the space between the side of the freezer and the wall.

 

                Mickey got started by hopping up on one of the chilly metal table, popping the cap on the lube. He drizzled it over his fingers and leaned back on one elbow to reach his other hand down and start stretching himself out. Ian paused in the doorway as he stripped his plaid shirt off.

 

                “Fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, voice catching as he added a third finger to his prepping process.

 

                “You,” Ian replied after a moment, stalking into the room and letting the door shut behind him. He pulled his shirt off over his head as he went and tossed it aside as he stopped short of Mickey. He stood between Mickey’s feet where they propped his legs open on the edge of the table and looked down at where his fingers were fucking him open.

 

                “So hot,” Ian commented, earning a scoff from Mickey.

 

                “C’mon, suit up,” Mickey ordered, pulling his fingers free and throwing a condom at Ian even as he fumbled with his belt to get his dick out. It hit Ian’s stomach and fell to the floor and Ian stooped down to grab it. He finished getting himself out and ripped the package open with his teeth. A second later he had it rolled onto his cock and he got his hands on Mickey, one hand tugging on his wrist to get his fingers out of the way and the other jerking Mickey’s cock a couple times.

 

                Mickey tugged his fingers free and gripped at Ian’s bicep. He bit his lip and shifted his hips as both of Ian’s hands held him by the hips and yanked him closer to the edge of the table.

 

                He lined up and pushed in and _yes_ , this was Mickey’s new favourite for sure. Having his legs spread so wide let Ian’s cock go deep and the head nudged at Mickey’s prostate right away. Mickey’s grip shifted up from Ian’s arm to his shoulder to the back of his neck as Ian started fucking him. Mickey clutched at him and Ian leaned over him, hunkering down over him and burying his face in the side of Mickey’s neck.

 

                Mickey could feel Ian’s mouth against his neck, humid and wet, and he could vaguely hear him saying something but he was muffled and quiet and Mickey couldn’t focus enough to hear it. With the closeness of their bodies Ian couldn’t go as fast or hard as he usually did but the angle more than made up for it.

 

                On a particularly good push Mickey clutched at Ian’s shoulder and got a grip in his hair, clinging hard to Ian as he slammed into him. Mickey bit his lip to stifle his sounds and because of this he heard it loud and clear when Ian leaned up and murmured into his ear, lips brushing the shell.

 

                “Wanna kiss you,” he breathed, and Mickey froze up. Ian felt his tense through his body and he stuttered to a stop. “What’s wrong?”

 

                “You’re ruining a good fuck,” Mickey grumped. Ian just looked down at him with those wounded puppy dog eyes of his and no, _no_ , this wasn’t fucking happening. Mickey pushed at Ian until he pulled back, looking confused.

 

                “What?” he asked, trying to put his hands on Mickey to soothe him. Mickey just slid off the table and found his pants, pulled them up, and made to flee the store. Ian caught him by the wrist and yanked him back into the room.

 

                “Get the fuck off me unless you wanna lose that fucking hand,” Mickey growled but Ian didn’t do as he was told. Instead he pushed Mickey against a set of shelves and slapped his ass. Mickey’s yelp turned into a bit-off whine when Ian nudged his legs apart and started pushing his dick back in.

 

                Mickey clung to the racks as Ian rammed into him and he found himself missing being face to face. He missed clinging to Ian’s shoulders and tugging at his hair and feeling his hot breath against his neck. Almost as soon as he thought that he felt Ian breathing down the side of his neck. He could feel his ear burning up where Ian’s mouth touched it.

 

                “Rough enough for you?” Ian teased, biting at Mickey’s neck and his earlobe. Mickey pushed back against his body, humping back on his dick and Ian took that as his cue. He buckled down and pounded Mickey into the wall. He was hurt by Mickey’s resistance but he wasn’t surprised. They’d get there eventually and until then he would enjoy the tiny bits of intimacy Mickey would let slip by when he was too far gone to think about it.


	19. Mickey buying his Ben-Wa beads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr user [mywildebeest](http://mywildebeest.tumblr.com/) prompted this from me: "Could I interest you in a prompt?? Mickey buying the Ben Wa beads - him being in the store and being sassy to the clerk but also a little nervous. Does he buy it with Ian in mind or did he get them before their relationship? Is it his first sex toy?"
> 
> this one is so short but i had a ton of fun writing it, for what it's worth. i also feel like because this is so short, i should direct readers to the [sex shop au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539462) i wrote if you can't get enough of mickey buying various insertables (○‿○✿)

                The first time Mickey had fucked the Gallagher kid, it had been rough. He sure hadn’t been expecting the scrawny redhead to be hung like he was. Mickey hadn’t cried or anything but he’d decided then and there that he needed _something_ to get his body accustomed to taking the monster in Gallagher’s pants. They didn’t have time for twenty fucking minutes of prep every time so for the sake of convenience he found himself wandering around a shitty little head shop that had a couple racks of sesx toys in the back corner.

 

                The white girl with dreads who sat at the counter looked up from her magazine at him when he walked in and she watched him as he went to look at the toys. She didn’t say a word to him until he set the strong of beads down on the counter. Her brows furrowed.

 

                “You sure you want these?”

 

                “Would I have fuckin’ picked them up if I wasn’t?” Mickey asked, trying his best not to flush. He added spitefully; “I know what I’m about, bitch. Ring ‘em up.”

 

                She ignored his words and gawked at the beads and then at him for a moment and then scanned the little tag on the end of the string. “I hope your girl is down for this,” she commented, taking Mickey’s cash from him and counting out his change agonizingly slowly. She gave him his change and an opaque plastic bag with the beads inside and he gave her his paring words as he turned to leave the shop;

 

                “I never said it was for my girl,” he said and he couldn’t keep down his smirk as he slipped out of the shop and back onto the street.


	20. Ian and Mickey dance together at the Fairy Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a celebratory 'just got my old bulky cast off and got a comfier better one put on' fic! apologies again for being so slow but typing is really hard in a cast D:

                “If you do that again, the bouncers are gonna kick you out,” Ian told Mickey when he stopped by the bar to get a drink between dances. Mickey snorted into his whiskey and Ian went on. “I’m serious, Mick. My boss just told me you’re bad for business and he’s not afraid to kick you out.”

 

                “He should be,” Ian said and Ian gave him a look. “Fine. I’ll just watch you get groped and slobbered all over.”

 

                “Thanks babe, you’re the best,” Ian said, finishing his water and pecking Mickey on the cheek as he strode back to the platform where he’d been dancing. Mickey scowled the whole time and Ian winked as he resumed dancing.

 

                Mickey called over the bartender and ordered more booze. There was no way he would sit by and do nothing but watch Ian dance if he didn’t have an elevated blood alcohol level. He was in for a long night as it was.

 

-

 

                Half an hour after he’d taken his last water break Ian was contemplating taking another one. He stooped down to smirk and wink at one last client before he took the old fart’s money and walked over to step down off the platform. He got one step down before suddenly Mickey was there, pushing him back up.

 

                “The fuck, Mickey?” Ian asked.

 

                “If I gotta fuckin’ watch you dance and get felt up by old guys one more second I’m gonna kill somebody,” Mickey declared, too loud and more than a little slurred. Ian wondered just how much Mickey had had to drink and was just about to voice that question when Mickey kept talking. “The trolls’ll share you with me if I dance with you right?”

 

                Ian’s brain blanked out for a moment. “What?”

 

                Mickey punched Ian’s arm. “You’re always trying to get me to dance with you, right? Well, I’m here and I wanna get my hands all fucking over you.”

 

                “I don’t think it’s allowed.” Ian said and Mickey tugged him down to kiss him. He tasted like whiskey and not a whole lot else. Ian could hear cheers and catcalls over the thumpa-thumpa around them.

 

                “Do I look like somebody who fuckin’ cares?” Mickey asked, hands settling on Ian’s hips. “And anyways, they fuckin’ love it. Now quit bitching and show me how to dance.”

 

                Ian only deliberated for a moment, definitely persuaded when Mickey leaned in and kissed at his neck, rough and sloppy and definitely leaving marks. “Alright,” he said, pulling away from Mickey just enough to get at the buttons on his shirt. “But only if you take this off.” Mickey squirmed out of the shirt without complaint, letting it drop to the platform and then pressing himself back against Ian. He went back to mouthing at Ian’s neck while Ian’s hands took him by the hips and got them grinding in a rhythm together.

 

                Mickey’s hands clutched at Ian’s shoulders and Ian’s hands slid back to grab him by the ass and pull him in closer. They rutted against each other for long enough that they nearly forgot about all the people around them. Until of course the cheers for them to kiss drowned out the music and a sneaky hand crept up to slide a bill down the back of Mickey’s jeans. Mickey snarled and lashed out at them but Ian just pulled him back in and swept him up in a kiss passionate enough for the assembled crowd of rowdy gay men to shower them with cash.

 

                “Turn around,” Ian practically purred, hot and humid against Mickey’s lips. Mickey groaned and complied, turning around in Ian’s arms and pushing back against him. Ian locked an arm around Mickey’s waist to hold him close and humped against his ass.

 

                Mickey reached one hand over his shoulder and tangled it in Ian’s hair and clutched the other one at Ian’s thigh. Ian knew how good the view was of Mickey’s shoulders and arms and he counted on that making them a ton of cash.

 

                “Gonna fuck you so hard later,” Ian told Mickey, voice hot and low. He bit at Mickey’s earlobe and slid his fingers just under the waist of his boxers, sliding them past his jeans and brushing them against his pelvis. Mickey turned his head to kiss Ian sloppily over his shoulder and the catcalls they received from that drew the bouncers in and had them fighting their way to the platform.

 

                Mickey did end up getting kicked out of the club by the bouncers, but not for the reason he had thought he would be. He hung around at a 24-hour Subway down the street until Ian’s shift ended and Ian cut his ranting and raving off by showing him the thick wad of cash they’d made dancing together.


	21. Someone slips something in Ian's drink while he's at work and Mickey tracks down/beats up the would-be rapist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an anon sent me this prompt: "A prompt where somebody slips ian a pill and Mickey goes to find him before he can get hurt"

                “Mick,” Ian said. Mickey didn’t answer him immediately so Ian tried again. “Mickey.” It came out slow and sluggish to his ears and he had to fight to keep his eyes open. “Mick, something’s wrong...”

 

                “Yeah?” Mickey looked up at Ian who was practically falling asleep on his feet where he stood next to Mickey at the bar of the club. He nudged Ian and he nearly fell over. “Hey man, you alright?”

 

                Ian mumbled something and Mickey scowled. “Ian.” Ian put an arm around Mickey’s shoulders and slumped further, leaning dangerously on him. “Ian, you take somethin’?” He groaned and Mickey felt the minute movement of Ian shaking his head weakly against his shoulder. “Someone give you somethin’? Slip somethin’ in your drink?” Ian’s slurring sounded something like ‘I dunno’ and Mickey knew then what he had to do.

 

                With the help of the bouncers Mickey moved Ian into the back room and away from the creep who had roofied him. He got Ian settled on a bench and had the bouncer stay and keep an eye on him and then went back out onto the floor to hunt down the fucker who did this.

 

                He found the guy pretty quickly. This long into it and Mickey could practically smell the guilt wafting off these guys but the guilt that came from roofieing a dude was something all its own. It also helped that Mickey spotted a skinny middle-aged white guy with glasses and a combover hovering a little too close to another one of the dancers and slipping something into his drink when he got distracted talking to the bartender for just a second.

 

                “Ay,” he said, raising his voice so the guy could hear him over the pounding music. The guy started and turned like he was going to run but the dancer who he was trying to drug knew Mickey well enough to block him and prevent him from taking off like he clearly wanted to. Between Mickey and the dancer they got the slimeball backed up against the bar and stumbling over onto a stool.

 

                “What’d he do?” the dancer asked. “He think Ian’s a hooker again? ‘Cause it’s easy to make that mistake.”

 

                “No. And I’m definitely telling him you think he comes off as hookery. No, he _roofied_ Ian,” Mickey said and Andy, the other dancer, scoffed and reached for his drink. “Roofied your drink too, so I’d dump that out if I were you.”

 

                Andy cursed and swished his drink around until he spotted the partially-dissolved powder at the bottom of the glass. “Shit!” he shouted, turning on the guy and scowling.

 

                “Get in line,” Mickey growled, stepping between Andy and the guy. “I’m giving him the first pounding. And not in the good way.”

 

                Andy helped him drag the would-be rapist out into the back alley behind the bar. Together they beat him up, beat him down, and messed him up beyond all recognition. Mickey broke a couple ribs and busted one of his kneecaps in parting before he left Andy to finish inflicting whatever kind of brutal justice he wanted to.

 

                He went back into the club and weaved through the crowd to the back room the take Ian off the bouncer’s hands. He was sprawled out on the bench in the changeroom partially into his pants that the bouncer, Roger, had clearly tried to help him into before he mostly passed out.

 

                “Thanks Roger. I got him,” Mickey said, and Roger nodded.

 

                “You take care of this boy,” he said to Mickey. “He’s taken all kinds of shit before but he’s never had anyone to look after him and it’s about damn time.”

 

                “Don’t I know it,” Mickey said, kneeling down next to the bench to pull Ian’s pants up. He helped Ian into his shirt and hoodie and switched his work shoes for a worn pair of Chucks Fiona had bought for him at the thrift store. He shoved Ian’s stuff in his bag and hauled him to his feet.

 

                Ian grunted and made some vague noises as Mickey slung him over his shoulder. He made it halfway to the nearest El station before he stopped to properly lift Ian and carry all his weight, and then soon enough they were on the train and Ian could lean against Mickey’s side and pass out on his shoulder. Mickey got Ian home in one piece and he fell asleep curled up beside Ian’s prone form.

 

-

 

                Ian woke up to the worst headache he’d had in months and instantly regretted everything he’d ever done ever. To add to the pile of shit that was his morning, Mickey wasn’t in bed with him and his side of the mattress was stone cold so he was probably gone somewhere and had been for sometime soon.

 

                He ran a hand roughly over his face and groaned when he realized why the sensations he was feeling were so familiar. Taking mystery drugs from strangers wasn’t anything new to Ian, but he could honestly say he had never been roofied before. He’d always taken the drugs offered to him willingly, and he was a little unnerved at how normal it felt. He thought he would feel violated and vulnerable but a large part of him felt like it was business as usual. He shook off the feeling and crawled to the edge of the bed. He heard someone moving around in the kitchen and vaguely heard Yevgeny babbling so he got up, intent on playing with Yev while Svetlana did what she needed to do in the kitchen.

 

                Ian paused in the doorway to the kitchen when he saw Mickey standing at the stove instead of his wife. He looked up from the pot he’d been stirring and cursed softly. “Shit. Did I wake you up?”

 

                When Ian didn’t reply, he went on. “Sorry. He’s been fuckin’ chatty today. Figured if I made him something he likes he’d be happy. You know he’s moody with me sometimes.” Mickey watched his son where he sat in elated silence since Ian had entered the room. Seeing that both his favourite men were looking at him he drummed on the table of his high chair happily. “Spaghetti’s probably his favourite because it’s such a colossal fucking mess for me to clean up.” Mickey realized he’d been babbling so he got back on track. “If you wanna go back to bed you can. You had a pretty rough night.”

 

                “Nah, I’m up now. Gotta get in some time with my favourite guy,” Ian said, promptly striding over and pulling up a chair next to Yev’s high chair.

 

                Mickey ignored the bait Ian laid out for him and added some variety of powdered spice to the pot and stirred it. “You feeling alright?” he asked Ian, watching him as he made faces at Yevgeny and made him giggle. “There’s Advil if you want it. Should probably drink some water too.”

 

                Ian smiled a little sheepishly, holding Yev’s chubby little hand. Yev pulled Ian’s hand up to his mouth and gummed at one of his fingers. Ian grinned as Yev’s big blue eyes stayed glued to him, not unlike those of his father across the room. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

 

                Ian watched Mickey go to the cabinet where they kept their over-the-counter meds and thought about how he meant that phrase more deeply than he could have thought possible.


	22. Ian and Mickey never get interrupted by Terry and they tell Mandy about them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompt: "Can you do a prompt where terry never walked in on them at 3x06 and there relationship is stronger and they finally tell Mandy ?"

                The morning after their ‘sleepover’ Mickey did the same thing as always. He went back to bed after Ian left for work and he slept in until after noon before he got up and went out to hit up the school to make some collections. He stayed there until school let out and there was no-one left to shake down and then he went to watch Ian do the baby army thing. He chain-smoked in the bleachers until Ian was done and then they fucked under those same bleachers before they walked back to Mickey’s place again. If Mickey’s dad was still gone they’d have loud couch sex all over the house and it’d be great. Ian could crash again and whoever woke first could start a good morning blowjob exchange and ignore how they’d been cuddling together all night.

 

                Unfortunately nothing could work out for the two of them so when they got home, horsing around and exchanging sexually-charged touches, the rug got yanked out from under them when they found that Mandy was home.

 

                “Hey douchebag,” Mandy grunted from around a mouthful of chips from where she sat in front of the TV with her books scattered around her. Ian entered after Mickey was her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her bangs. “Oh. Ian. Hey.”

 

                “Hey Mandy,” Ian said, crossing the room and flopping on the couch next to her. He toed off his shoes and kicked his socked feet up on the table. He picked up the notebook nearest him and look it over. “Shit. Book report, huh?”

 

                “Yeah. Not all of us can test out or whatever. Nerd,” she scoffed, watching him as he dug a red pen out of Mandy’s pencil case and started doing corrections to the draft of her book report.

 

                Mickey stood in the doorway of the kitchen, fidgeting a little as he watched Ian and Mandy interact. He floated in and out of their hangouts in the living room and Ian could tell he was uncomfortable. He hovered in the doorway or disappeared down the hall and only time he actually hung around in the living room was when they chipped cash together and ordered a pizza. He looked anxious and twitchy where he sat jammed in between Ian and the arm of the couch and he wolfed down a few slices before he hauled himself off the couch and fled back to his room. Ian tried not to get too concerned, but after they’d finished off the pizza he told Mandy he had to go to the bathroom and took off to ask Mickey what was up.

 

                He closed Mickey’s bedroom door quietly and turned just in time to catch the other boy looking away from him and pretending he’d been reading his magazine the whole time.

 

                “Hey,” Ian said, shifting from foot to foot in Mickey’s doorway. Mickey just offered him a grunt and turned his page deliberately.

 

                “You gonna go take a piss, or do you wanna stand there all day?” Mickey asked, eyes scanning over his page too fast to be effective.

 

                “Neither,” Ian replied, finally stepping away from the door and crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Came to see you, actually.”

 

                “I’m touched,” Mickey mumbled, but he let Ian take the magazine from him and set it aside. He climbed into Mickey’s lap in its place and leaned down his kiss him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Mickey took a moment to warm up to him but before long he was sighing into Ian’s mouth and setting his hands on Ian’s hips.

 

                “What’s up with you?” Ian asked quietly, breath low in the close air between them. “You hang out with me and Mandy all the time. What’s different this time?”

 

                “Do we need to talk about this right now?” Mickey huffed, trying to close the gap between them and chased Ian’s lips when he moved away. “Fuck, man. Can’t we just make out and feel each other up a little without it being a fucking therapy session?”

 

                Ian fell silent for a minute during which Mickey growled and bit at his lip and tried to push him over and climb on top twice. Just as Mickey was about to start trying to push Ian off the bed, he nodded with sudden conviction like he’d made a big decision.

 

                “We’re gonna tell Mandy,” he declared and Mickey scoffed and pulled back.

 

                “Tell her _what_?”

 

                “About us. That we’re dating,” Ian said.

 

                “We’re not. We’d have to actually go on dates to be dating,” Mickey insisted.

 

                Ian snorted. “The other night you invited me over, cooked for me, and put on a movie you don’t like for me. If that’s not dinner and a movie, I don’t know what is,” Mickey sputtered and Ian covered his mouth with his hand, barely avoiding getting bitten. “We’ll talk about that later. Point is, we should tell Mandy and then you can be more relaxed when you hang out with us because you won’t be hiding anything from her.”

 

                “I’m tellin’ you man, I don’t feel guilty about anything. Ain’t none of the bitch’s business,” Mickey grumbled but when he looked back at Ian he groaned because he was looking up at him with his big green puppy dog eyes. He cursed. “Fuck. Let me think about it?”

 

                “If you don’t agree to it by tomorrow I’m gonna tell her myself,” Ian declared and Mickey glared at him.

 

                “You breathe a fuckin’ word of it to my sister and I’ll rearrange your fuckin’ face for you,” Mickey promised. “You’ll look like a fuckin’ Picasso painting.”

 

                “You like my face too much to mess it all up,” Ian said, voice playful and confident and the sombre mood of the conversation dropped. “I distinctly remember you _really_ liking how it looked all smeared with your come.”

 

                “Yeah well,” Mickey said, his own cheeks colouring at the reminder. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

 

                Ian laughed and stooped down to kiss Mickey again. If Mandy asked, he’d say he’d gotten his dick stuck in his zipper or something. She’d grimace and scrunch her nose up and tell Ian he was being gross and their secret would be safe for another day. (Just one more.)

 

-

 

                They did tell Mandy the next day. They sat her down on the couch and Mickey fidgeted the whole time, flicking his lighter and picking at his nails. Ian tried to tiptoe around outing Mickey to give him time to gather his courage and tell her himself until Mickey just interrupted him and blurted out; “I’m fuckin’ gay.”

 

Mandy looked like she’d just seen a ghost, and asked, “No shit?”

 

Mickey had nodded and gnawed his lip. “Big ol’ ‘mo,” he’d said and it was that which broke Mandy.

 

She fled the room in search some brain bleach to drink and forget the image of her brother taking Ian’s dick like a champ and begging for more. Ian had told her all the details about his mystery guy, after all.


	23. Mickey sitting in Ian's lap and Ian picking Mickey up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: " I'd love to read something where Ian is picking Mickey up and/or Mickey sitting on Ian's lap. I love the idea of Ian picking Mickey up carrying him and the Gallaghers seeing it."
> 
> [hit me up with more prompts!!](http://likingwhatilikedontmakemeabitch.tumblr.com/)

                Mickey could lift Ian up. Everyone knew that. He’d carried Ian home enough times and put up with him getting all clingy when drunk and demanding piggybacks and whatnot. Ian was quite a bit bigger than Mickey but the tiny Ukrainian never let that stop him. Sometimes it was easy to forget they had such a size difference, but when occasions like Last Thursday Night came around, it all came flooding back.

 

                Thursday nights were movie nights at the Gallagher house, which meant a lot of guests who each brought a case of beer. Like every other Thursday, they’d pooled their cash to buy a couple of sheet pizzas and then piled in on the couch, chairs, and floor in the Gallagher living room to watch whatever bootlegged movie they could get ahold of. They’d throw popcorn at siblings who started making out with guests they’d brought, make rude comments at each other, and very seldom watch the entire movie without missing important parts and then arguing over the plot. It wasn’t a super formal family tradition but they weren’t a super formal family either so it suited them just fine.

 

                They emptied the popcorn bowl about halfway through X-Men 3 and they silently played the nose game to decide who would get up and make some more. Mickey was lost staring at Hugh Jackman and didn’t catch on to the game until it was too late, cursing the assembled Gallaghers (and company) and he hauled himself off the couch and to his feet.

 

                Several minutes and a few microwave beeps later and Mickey returned with a huge bowl of popcorn to find Carl grinning up at him from his seat next to Ian.

 

                “Move,” he growled, sitting the popcorn down on the table. “You’re in my spot.”

 

                “I don’t see your name on it,” Carl said, leaning forward and snagging Mickey’s beer off the table. He drained it before Mickey got the chance to grab it.

 

                “Bullshit. My fucking ass was in it two minutes ago,” he argued, glaring at Ian’s family as they shushed him harshly. “ _Move_ ,” he hissed once more and when Carl ignored him he threw his hands up in the air in frustration, looking fit to rant until Ian found his hand in the dark and gave it a squeeze to get his attention.

 

                “Let’s try squeezing into the couch,” he suggested and Mickey huffed out a sigh but let Ian pull him in by the hand.

 

                With lots of squishing and complaining Mickey squeezed into a spot between Ian and Carl. As the movie went on Mickey swore Carl stretched out and pushed him closer to Ian more and more just to piss him off. That was when it began. It had started out with Ian putting his arm around the back of the couch over Mickey’s shoulders to give him a bit more space against Ian’s side. By the time the movie was done and they turned on the lights Mickey was lounging half-asleep in Ian’s lap.

 

                He jumped like a startled cat when the lights came on and he realized the whole family was staring at him, but Ian wound his arms around Mickey’s waist and held him there. His cheeks coloured brilliantly but he was, for once, rendered speechless before he slumped back in Ian’s lap with nothing more than a little sigh.

 

                No one said a word to the boys as they loaded up on beer and popcorn and took turns using the bathroom before they started up the next movie. Even though the people on the couch had shifted and there was plenty of room for Mickey to sit next to Ian he didn’t move from Ian’s lap. He’d slid his hands down to hold Ian’s where he’d clasped them around Mickey’s waist.

 

                They started the second movie without incident and after the lights went down Mickey and Ian were both uncharacteristically quiet, so soon enough Carl was throwing popcorn at them and telling them to pit their dicks away. They didn’t respond to Carl gave up and an hour and a half later Debbie turned the lights on to find Mickey passed out in Ian’s lap. His hands were still tightly clasping one of Ian’s and his head was tipped back against Ian’s chest as he snored lightly.

 

                A hush fell over the assembled Gallaghers and their various guests as they watch Ian reach up his free hand to stroke it through Mickey’s hair. Ian shifted a little, adjusting where Mickey’s weight rested, and moved his own arms. He tucked one under Mickey’s knees and the other across the middle of his back and got to his feet. He pulled Mickey against him and Mickey yawned but didn’t wake, nuzzling his face against Ian’s chest before he went still again in Ian’s arms.

 

                “Goodnight everyone,” Ian said softly, nodding to his siblings and their guests and he carried Mickey off and up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the very beginning of his siblings erupting in discussion right before he closed the bedroom door.

 

-

 

                Mickey scrubbed at his eyes as he descended the last couple steps into the kitchen at the Gallagher house. Ian had gotten up early for his run and Mickey gad rolled around in bed for another half hour or do before he gave up and went to take a shower. He could never sleep properly without Ian in bed with him anyways.

 

                He was halfway into his cup of coffee when he noticed the stares. He looked up over the top of his mug and saw both Debbie and Fiona hurry to look away. He tried not to let it bother him but the third time it happened he huffed. “What?”

 

                “Nothing,” Debbie stammered while Fiona just smiled silently into her cup. Lip was a lot less shy when he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later.

 

                “Thought you had to be married before Ian scooped you up and carried you over the threshold?” he ssaid with a smirk, shouldering past Mickey to get to the coffee.

 

                “The _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” Mickey asked, eyebrows making a run for his hairline. Lip just snickered and dumped a healthy serving of cream into his coffee. Mickey was about to round on him again when Ian chose that moment to stride in through the back room and let it slam shut behind him. He tugged off his beanie and kicked off his shoes and Mickey got distracted watching him walk into the kitchen.

 

                “You’re up,” Ian observed, cupping Mickey’s jaw and brushing a quick kiss into his hair on his way by. “’Bout time after you conked out so early last night.”

 

                Mickey didn’t comment on that, just shoved at Ian. Lip spoke for him.

 

                “When you conk out early, does Ian always carry you off to bed like some fair maiden?” Lip asked and Mickey flipped him off as he finished his mug of coffee. The bottom of the mug was his favourite part – the part where it was sugary and strong. Even Lip being a colossal dickbag couldn’t take that small joy away from him.

 

                “He is pretty _fair_ ,” Ian said, raking his eyes down Mickey from head to toe. “ _Fair_ as hell.” He bit his lip.

 

                “Definitely not a fuckin’ maiden though,” Mickey mumbled, which took the topic to him and Ian’s past sluttiness and blessedly away from the embarrassing ordeal of Last Night.

 

                (Unfortunately, just because the topic then was changed did no mean that it would never be brought up again. Far from it, Mickey would eventually learn.)


End file.
